Lines Undrawn
by sherridin
Summary: Diana after a mission. And Bruce who wants to help. One-shot. Set in Justice League Dark but with Bruce and Diana as a couple.


There's a lingering throb in Diana's head – a pulsing, annoying thing that sits at the back of her skull. It began when Hecate's mark manifested and for weeks, it ebbed and flowed like a fickle mistress – sometimes humming in the background, other times screeching for attention. And now at the debriefing, while recounting Hecate's fate -coincidence or not - the thrum becomes harder to ignore.

Flash does a double take. "So you're saying the all-powerful bad guy is killed by another all-powerful bad guy who at this very moment is devouring Olympus? Like literally eating the magic?"

"There's not much we can do. We barely escaped as it is," Diana replies. "And I don't think 'killed' is the right word. Hecate has been in existence since the beginning of time. I doubt she can truly be gone."

"But if there is good in her as you said, then we might have lost a potential ally," says Cyborg. "The next time the Otherkind threatens our world, who has the power to counter them?"

Diana hesitates. There is a tendency to postpone when it comes to this mission, she finds. But her reply is truthful. "We'll reach out to the magical community to look for answers. We are up against powers we do not fully understand."

Clark looks at her with concern. "It's a closer call than we think. That surge was felt all over the world. We're lucky you assembled the team in the nick of time."

"It must have taken a toll on you. How are you feeling?" J'onn asks.

She steels herself from his glowing eyes, while resolutely ignoring another pair that's been scrutinizing her since the debriefing began. "Nothing rest can't cure," she assures.

They cut the meeting short for her benefit. Not wanting to travel, she retreats to her quarters in the Watchtower. Facing the sink, she grips the cool porcelain and studies the image before her. Same eyes, nose, mouth… and yet something is wrong. She gingerly removes the tiara to reveal the faint mark. Fingers tentatively touch the symbol of Hecate and she shivers. The terrible, raw power that had coursed through her hours ago sings in her blood still.

A curt knock interrupts the silence. As expected, the familiar dark figure strides in.

She feels his presence behind her as she continues running the wash cloth under the water. It's been an exhausting few days and yet she's not going to make it easy.

"Diana."

From the reflection, she sees him remove the cowl with a quick sweep over the head.

"Are you just going to ignore me?"

A foolish question, she thinks. It's impossible to ignore this man. "I'm fine," she says simply.

Bruce moves towards her and gently eases the cloth from her grip. She sees his eyes linger at the mark but he doesn't say anything.

He works quietly and she lets him. The cloth scrubs away the dirt and soot from her arms and neck, leaving cool trails on the skin. He takes her hand, leading her to the bed to sit. A wracked breath escapes despite herself, and he's quick to kneel down. "It's ok."

His normally calm facade is lined with concern and she resents it.

"What happened?"

"I just gave a report."

"You're clearly leaving something out."

"Why don't you ask Zatanna?" she asks dryly. "You have no problem asking her before."

She watches for his reaction but he remains unperturbed. "It's our job to look out for the team, whether you're leading it or not."

"Next time you question my leadership, tell it to my face."

"I never doubted for a second. I just wanted to know how we can help."

"Then talk to me, not someone else!" she snaps.

He tips his head down and exhales. "We assess team members' conditions all the time. You should know. This is no ordinary job. The level of power involved is more than any one team can handle. We wanted to know the full situation."

She huffs at the rationality of it and looks away. The magical community tends to operate in secrecy. It frustrated her when they refused help from outsiders even as their very existence was being threatened. Perhaps this tendency has rubbed off on her. Bearing witness to sacred magic has its own effects.

Her gaze lands on the viewing window where glittering stars dot the vast blackness. Her spirit was transported out there, on the moon, or what looked like the moon. She remembers feeling so distant, so hollow, as if a gust can blow her out of existence at any moment. It was cold. It was painfully serene.

A warm hand cups her cheek. His slate eyes look at her steadily.

"There's something you're keeping from us. Which means it's personal and you have reasons for it. But I want to help, Diana. Please let me."

A bubble of annoyance surfaces and she clings to the feeling. "Whenever you're out there risking your life time and time again, I never meddle in your affairs. Don't go into mine."

He makes a frustrated sound. "First of all, it's League affairs."

She glares at him. "It's my team."

"Fine, then you're my girlfriend."

"You do not own me," she retorts.

"No, of course not," he snaps. "You're my girlfriend and I worry."

He sighs and in her silence picks himself up to sit beside her.

Her gaze follows his movement down to the square set of his jaw. The feeling is not foreign to her. In fact she knows it intimately. She regrets their exchange as quickly as it happened. Her hand moves to cover his. He lifts an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"There're times when you're in the field and everything looked so bleak. I'd be tempted to fly into that city of yours. But you'll never forgive me for it," she says. "We've set rules. Feelings will not affect our actions in our work."

It was a logical rule. A professional one. But Bruce learned early on that rational thought crumbles at the sight of someone you love in danger. Dating your colleague be damned. His eyes drift back to the fading mark - the terrible reminder of what she went through. What horrors did she face that would make her hold back from him? ….But then how many times has he done the same? He unfortunately does not share her patience. "It's not easy," he finally says.

"No."

He takes in her resigned face, the heaviness in her shoulders. "Go to sleep, Princess. Let's talk about this some other time."

He unfastens her armor with careful ease and helps her into a cotton shirt.

Diana's eyelids grow heavy as he tucks the covers around her, fingers skimming over skin.

Her body yearns for rest, but that prickly feeling won't leave just yet. He begins to move away, and she reaches out for his hand. "Stay for a while, please?"

The uncertainty in her voice baffles him, while the thought of being needed offers relief. "Of course."

He'll be there when she wakes.

\- fin -

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Notes:

This fic is based on the early issues of Justice League Dark. Diana's leading a team to fight off a threat that would end all magic in Earth. It's a big multi issue thing. The part that caught my interest was when Diana and Zatanna were updating the League. The main Leaguers asked Zatanna for a private word (which Diana's not happy with). Batman asked Zatanna if she thinks Diana's up to the task because he's known Diana for a long time and has never seen her shaken up like this. That tiny convo comprised of probably half a page sparked this wonderbat fic, because us shippers are obsessed like that. Hope the story's not confusing with just minimal background. Would appreciate comments!


End file.
